I have struggled for the past few years to sleepover at a boys house in his bed without panicking. I have since started taking medication, but that only relieves the panic attacks. I still don't sleep for fear I will panic. When I opened up to my boyfriend about my panic attacks, he said he understood. He said his friends had them and that it was okay. But when I told him that I had been secretly taking my pills every time I stayed at his house, he didn't seem to understand.

I listen to sad music when I feel down; not happy music to make me feel better. I feel like I’m walking in a world that’s running. In those moments I tell myself to breath slowly and I look at a different object every couple seconds to calm myself down.

The worst yet best part about these medications is that they have helped me tremendously although I want to be med free! Not only for health reasons but I am married now two years and desperately wanting a child :) so after weening off for nearly four months (very slow I know but I was so terrified of the side affects) I now haven’t taken my Zoloft in four days.

I wanted to be the best at everything I did, but I did not have a reason behind it at all. Everyone told me I was doing amazing and doing great in life, but by the time I reached college, I had never felt more lost. People say you figure out who you are in college, but somehow between being a Pre-Med major and DII collegiate athlete I became overwhelmed. It started off very small, the tightening of my chest, the inability to catch my breath, then all of the sudden everything came crashing down.

It's hard to remember those days now. I've struggled with depression for almost 3 years, and it has only escalated. I am 15 years old and have felt pain more severe than I could have ever imagined. Many of you will know, but depression takes a part of you that seems impossible to get back. It sucks the life, love, and laughter out of you, leaving you with dark and twisted remains. It's like mourning the death of yourself, whilst still living.

It started as anorexia but soon morphed into builimia and binge eating disorder. One day in the middle of winter I had a bad binge and felt so out of control and desperate that I overdosed not intending to kilI myself but just as a cry for help. I was sent to the hospital, had my stomache pumped and put on the adolescent unit of a psych ward for 2 weeks which did nothing for me. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression, put on medication and was not properly treated for my eating disorder until I turned 30 years old and decided to go to a residential treatment facility. I went for 2 months and it really helped me but I did not have a solid outpoatient team and quickly relapsed.

I feel as though I'm really losing it this time. I am 45 years old with two beautiful children. I have suffered from depression since I was 14 and tried to commit suicide, I ended up in a coma and started treatment shortly there after. I started having panic attacks about 9 years ago while going thru a divorce. I went to counseling and medicine and responded fairly well I thought.

We don't really know each other and therefore with our badly organized assumptions we just do what we think is right to do. I have been that person for a while now whom people tried to reach to solve a problem which they thought they could fix and which I did not let happen. As many of you would, I have my hearth brokenness and I am very proud of it because without it, I would not be the person who I am now. And until recently I was okay with my being since it was not hurting anyone.

I was 14. The guy I was dating (for a year and a half at this point) told me how terrible I was.. the way I looked to the way i laughed. He controlled my friends, my social media, and the activities I did, but it was followed by three words I LOVE YOU.

"Smile honey, no one likes a frown."Be strong when others find themselves weak."Sweetie, dressing like that will get you no where."I feel like inside I am going to explode."Baby girl, guys don't like you."

I turned 25 in January of this year. That’s a turning point in your life. A birthday to reflect on your past, lessons learned and future hopes of the person you want to become. While spending some time reflecting on my life, one lesson, one story stuck out; and given that it is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, I have decided to share that story.

Over the past year I have been through so many life changes. I’ve been through heartbreak, failures at work, my body physically breaking down, death of significant people in my life… you name it. All of that can take its toll on you. It has taken its toll on me physically, mentally, and above all, emotionally. But the crazy thing about all that negative stuff happening is that there is so much positivity that surrounds it if we choose to look at it though that lens.

I may have finally reached my breaking point. After 24 years I think I might have finally lost my patience with people, and the things they do. I remember the first time I was lied to. I was five when I first discovered that Santa Claus wasn't real. The little white lie that most parents tell their children snowballed into a full blown scandal. I couldn't believe that they would lie to me about something so arbitrary, and too this day I am still filled the same sense of betrayal when someone goes back on their word.